Fourth Sick
by otakubynature
Summary: Arthur falls sick every year on the Fourth of July. Alfred has begun to notice, and decides to drop by to see him... A super fluffy usuk oneshot.


Arthur awoke in a violent fit of coughing. His body shook roughly as the coughing spell overtook him, and by the time it passed, he was left light-headed and breathless with the taste of blood in his mouth. His heart burned with sharp pain, and his body felt weak and cold. He looked over to his window, where the sun was just beginning to light the sky in shy beams of light. It was starting.

Today was July fourth.

Every year on the fourth day of July, Arthur fell under a strange sort of sickness. Some years, it was manageable with only slight headaches and a hangover-like effects. Other years he would be rendered helpless as pain ignited throughout every corner of his frame, causing Arthur to slip in and out of consciousness as his body and spirit contorted in pain. This was going to be one of the worse years. Arthur could already tell as he fought to sit up. Every muscle felt unreasonably tired, and ached severely when he brought himself into a sitting position on the side of his bed. He was trembling with an icy sensation of coldness running through his veins, and his heart and lungs felt exhausted, as if he had been running for days.

"_Perfect,_" Arthur grumbled as he slid his hand across his face. He wrapped the covers around his shoulders and stood up slowly, but immediately regretted doing so. His vision blurred, and he immediately felt dizzy. Arthur cursed under his breath and slowly made his way down the hall to the kitchen, leaning on the wall as he went. Once in his flat's kitchen, he opened a cabinet and fumbled through the assorted boxes before he found a small bottle of aspirin. He took a few pills and swallowed them, even though he knew they never did anything for this.

Arthur stumbled over towards his couch to lie down. The early morning sun was beginning to pour through the curtains, and he pulled his duvet closer to his face to try and block some of the light. He hated that this always happened on Alfred's birthday. The previous year, he had been well enough to go to the American's birthday party, however this year, he definitely wouldn't be leaving home, let alone flying to America to see Alfred. Arthur shifted his weight and tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. The pain intensified when he moved, so he just remained where he was and screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore it. Just when he was beginning to drift into light sleep, a loud pounding noise shook him awake. Someone was knocking on his door. Arthur glanced at his wall clock. It was 9:15 a.m, and Arthur certainly wasn't expecting any visitors. He slowly stood up and made his way to the door, as the visitor began pounding on the door again. Arthur grew irritated and groaned as he unlocked the door. He opened the door angrily.

"Do you have any idea what ungodly hour it-"

Arthur froze when he saw who was standing at his door. Standing in the dim morning sun, clutching a large paper bag and a small suitcase was a man with dirty blonde hair and glasses. He looked a little scared at first, but then a warm smile spread across his face.

"Alfred?" Arthur said, wondering if he was seeing things.

"Hi Arthur," the American said as he let out a short laugh. He walked in, past Arthur who was still dumbfounded by the whole situation. Finally, Arthur got a grip on his senses again.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Alfred looked down at his suitcase then looked back at Arthur as if he had asked the dumbest question in the world.

"Uh...visiting?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I get that, Sherlock, but _why_ are you here?"

"Well...yesterday Francis called me and said that you probably wouldn't be at my birthday party because you'd be sick," Alfred said as he set down his belongings. "So I thought I'd come visit you instead!"

Arthur scowled. Francis was the only one who knew why Arthur got sick every fourth of July, and now he was dropping unnecessary hints to Alfred.

"That damn Frenchman," Arthur muttered.

Arthur was pulled out of his anger at Francis as Alfred placed his hand on Arthur's forehead, attempting to read the Englishman's temperature. The warmth of the American's hand did feel nice on his skin, but Arthur wasn't about to say anything. Alfred frowned.

"You do feel pretty warm, Arthur. Are you doing ok?"

"I'm fine." Arthur said as he pushed Alfred's hand away. However, when he did this, a spell of dizziness overcame him again and he fell against the wall for support. Arthur looked away from Alfred, attempting to hide his embarrassment. "I'm fine, really. I just have a cold."

The American seemed unconvinced at first, then shrugged.

"Fine." Alfred pointed towards the couch. "Sit over there. I'm going to take care of you."

Arthur snorted, but did as Alfred said, and returned to where he had been sitting on the couch. Shortly after, Alfred joined him on the couch, holding the paper bag that he had brought with him.

"You're seriously ditching your party to be here with me on your birthday?"

"Yeah," Alfred said with a smile.

"The entirety of your country will be celebrating, and you won't be there?" Alfred let out a short laugh in response.

"I'll manage, Arthur, I promise."

Arthur smiled at Alfred. He knew how much the American loved a good party, and knew that he must have been really worried about him to have skipped his largest party of the year. Arthur looked over Alfred's shoulder at the bag he was holding.

"What is that?" Arthur asked. Alfred beamed in response.

"Things for sick people," he said as he reached into the bag. He pulled out a small bottle.

"Cold medicine." He offered the bottle towards Arthur.

"Already took some," Arthur said. Alfred shrugged.

"Okay then. If you run out, we have extra now." He set the bottle on the table and reached back into the bag. This time he retrieved a small tub that Arthur recognized.

"Ice cream?"

"Duh. Ice cream! When you're sick, you have to have it." Arthur stared at the ice cream judgingly, wondering if Alfred had made that statement up.

"While I appreciate the thought, Alfred, I don't have much of an appetite."

"Oh. Okay then." Alfred set the ice cream down with a smile. "Then this is my ice cream." He then proceeded to remove two more identical tubs from the bag. "These ones too."

Before Arthur could interject about what an absurd amount of ice cream that was, Alfred cut him off.

"And last but not least..." Alfred removed a stack of dvds from the bag. "Movies!" Arthur smiled at finally hearing a reasonable idea.

"Fine, just so long as you put in something good."

Suddenly, Arthur erupted in another fit of coughing. This time, it lasted longer, and hurt even more than before, sending pain spreading through his entire body every time he coughed. Alfred instinctively tried to steady Arthur's shaking shoulders and stroked his back gently. Eventually the fit passed, and Arthur was once again left gasping for air. Alfred continued to rub his back until his breathing steadied again. Finally, Arthur's breathing returned to normal. Silence fell for a moment before he gasped out a single word sheepishly.

"Sorry."

Alfred shook his head.

"There's nothing to say sorry for." Alfred then went to the kitchen and poured Arthur a cold glass of water. He brought it back over to Arthur, who sipped at it eagerly. When he was finished. He settled back into a laying down position, and for a brief moment, the pain was gone.

No matter what Arthur said, Alfred insisted on the two of them watching Indiana Jones, and since Arthur was in no condition to protest, he let Alfred choose which movies he wanted. Arthur leaned on Alfred as the movies played. Alfred got really into the movies, and sometimes Arthur forgot that the American had seen all of the films he brought multiple times already. He was also managing to devour most of the ice cream. Every now and then, Arthur would reach up and take a bite from Alfred's spoon, but for the most part Arthur just leaned on the American's chest and listened to the movies. Occasionally, Arthur would have another fit of coughing, or unexplained spell of pain, but Alfred would say nothing, and simply held Arthur until they passed. Later, after about three movies, Arthur began to pass in and out of slumber. The different storylines of the various movies began to intermingle, and eventually, Arthur fell into a deep sleep.

Normally, on the fourth of July, Arthur doesn't sleep very well. He is often haunted by nightmares and recurring memories of that fateful day in the rain when Alfred severed their ties. However, for the first time since that day, he was able to sleep peacefully despite it being the fourth. It was a dreamless, empty sleep.

When Arthur woke up, the television was off, and the room was rather dark. He looked around slightly. The clock across from Arthur read 8:27 p.m, and a light rain was falling outside. Arthur looked up. He was still leaning on Alfred's chest, and the American was staring at him without saying anything.

"Oh, sorry Alfred, I fell asleep..." Arthur said while trying to pull himself from his sleepy state. But Alfred didn't say anything. Instead he leaned forward slightly and kissed Arthur. The two of them kissed for a while before Arthur pulled away suddenly.

"...I don't want you to catch it,"

Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulders and pulled him back on top of him.

"As if I could catch this from you," Alfred said as he kissed Arthur again. The two continued to kiss for several moments as Alfred began to whisper Arthur's name in between kisses. They eventually broke away, and this time they were both breathless for a different reason. Silence fell for a moment as the rain fell outside. Finally Arthur spoke.

"You knew...?"

Alfred nodded slowly.

"I always knew that you got sick on my birthday," Alfred paused for a moment, "I just didn't understand why until now." Alfred averted his eyes for a moment "Or how bad it was..."

Arthur sighed. As he had feared, he had done a terrible job hiding his fourth of July illness. And as he had feared, Alfred had known all along. It was true. Ever since Alfred declared his independence, Arthur became very ill on the Fourth of July.

Alfred spoke up again.

"...It's my fault you get sick every year, isn't it?" Alfred said sadly. Arthur shook his head.

"It's not your fault, Alfred. You did what you had to, and it was all for the best." He paused for a moment, "And to be fair, I get sick on the anniversary of all of my previous colonies' independence. Yours is just...worse than the others." At this, Alfred's eyes clouded in sadness.

"Why?" Alfred pleaded as he closed his fist and slammed it on his knee in frustration. "_Why?_"

Arthur knew why. He _loved_ Alfred. He loved him so much more than the others. Loosing him shook him to the core of his existence, not just as a country, but as a person. It broke his heart. Of course, this was now all ancient history. Alfred had returned to him, although in a different manner than before, and the wounds between them had long since healed. However the fact remained that Alfred had hurt him more than anyone else. But he could never tell him that.

"I don't know," Arthur lied. "But it's alright." Arthur leaned forward and kissed Alfred on the cheek. "Thank you for spending your birthday with me." Alfred smiled in response.

"My pleasure." Alfred paused for a moment. "I love you, Arthur."

Arthur smiled

"I love you, too."

As the rain fell outside, if just for a moment, Arthur's sickness seemed to disappear. And although he hadn't expected it, he somehow obtained a nice memory of a rainy Fourth of July.


End file.
